


told before and told again (oh, the tale is the same)

by iwaoiks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19023160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwaoiks/pseuds/iwaoiks
Summary: They fall in love slowly, gently, in a way so painfully obvious that the rest of the world can't help but stare - but so privately intimate it feels intrusive not to look away.Or,This is how Hajime and Tooru fall in love, through the accounts of those around them.





	told before and told again (oh, the tale is the same)

**Author's Note:**

> title from Hozier's [Sunlight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PELeEo33JXs).

**I.**

This is the second time they’ve lost to Shiratorizawa.

Issei curses under his breath for probably the hundredth time since the whistle signaling the end of the match had sounded. The last time they’d lost, he was just a first year who didn’t even make it onto the court. That day, he’d sworn he would train harder so that next time, next time he could fight with the rest of their team. Then next time comes around, and he finally gets his chance during the second and third sets, and they lose anyway.

He clenches his fist. Next year. They’ll win next year if it’s the last thing they do.

They’re lining up now to shake hands and thank their supporters, and Issei bows almost mechanically, feeling as empty as his stomach is. The team huddles up around the coach, and after a short speech from the captain they start cooling down and packing up to leave after the awards ceremony. Issei is headed towards the bathroom when he catches his two teammates in an empty hallway, standing facing each other.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi aren’t saying anything, but Oikawa hangs his head low, his hands clenched tightly into trembling fists. Issei is a little ways away, far enough that they don’t notice his presence, but close enough that he can tell Oikawa is crying. It’s the first time he’s ever seen Oikawa this vulnerable.

That doesn’t seem to be the case for Iwaizumi, though. He’s looking at Oikawa, tired and angry, though probably not for the same reasons that Issei is. Iwaizumi silently reaches out for Oikawa’s hands and gently coaxes his fingers open, one by one, mumbling something about Oikawa hurting himself, and Oikawa lets him do as he pleases. When he’s done, Iwaizumi presses his thumbs into Oikawa’s palms, and all three of them watch as he traces the cracks of Oikawa’s skin in gentle, calming motions.

When Oikawa lets out a long, heavy breath, Iwaizumi looks up at him and frowns, and flings a towel over Oikawa’s head to cover his face. Then, he tugs, once, on Oikawa’s fingers, and leads him down the hallway, Oikawa walking quietly in tow.

Issei turns and makes his way to the bathroom on the other side of the building.

 

 

**II.**

He doesn’t even know why he’s hiding, really.

It’s not like he doesn’t belong here. It’s a convenience store, for one thing, so nobody _really_ belongs here, and it’s a public space, for another, so he has just as much of a right to be here as Oikawa-san and Iwaizumi-san do. And yet, here he is, hiding behind shelves of snacks and chips, waiting for them to leave so he can make his purchase of milk and head home. Really, he just wants this one simple thing.

Tobio peers at his former senpais from around the corner. He hasn’t seen them since the practice match between Karasuno and Aoba Johsai. Thankfully, they’re already at the counter, paying for their drinks and bread. Oikawa-san is talking animatedly as Iwaizumi-san listens with a small smile. Absently, Tobio tries to remember a time where he’d seen the two apart, and he fails to conjure a memory.

On their way out, Oikawa-san shifts closer towards Iwaizumi-san, and bumps their shoulders lightly. Their knuckles brush against each other, and neither move their hands away, and although Tsukishima always calls him dense and slow even Tobio catches the way Oikawa-san’s face softens when Iwaizumi-san holds the door open for him.

Tobio clears his throat and looks away, takes a second or two before heading for the counter to pay.

 

 

**III.**

They’re having lunch when a girl from the neighboring class comes up to them.

“Um, excuse me, Oikawa-san,” the girl says timidly to Oikawa, who turns to her and flashes his signature shitty bright smile. Takahiro, Matsukawa and Iwaizumi all scowl in varying degrees of distaste at him, Iwaizumi’s being the highest.

The girl is loving it though. She blushes profusely and bows at an almost 90-degree angle, arms held out towards Oikawa. In her hands is a letter, decorated cutely with stickers and doodles. “P-Please accept this!” she says nervously, and Oikawa is still wearing the same smile when he takes it from her hands and thanks her. The girl, so red now Takahiro starts comparing her to an overripe tomato, bows again before quickly making her leave, obviously embarrassed.

“This is, what, your fifth letter this week?” Matsukawa asks, stealing a piece of fruit from their captain’s bento. “And it’s only Wednesday.”

Oikawa beams, wagging his eyebrows smugly. “Are you _jealous_ , Mattsun?” he says tauntingly, fanning his face with the scented love letter. “Not all of us can be this pretty, you know.”

Matsukawa replies by flipping him the bird. He gasps. “Rude, Mattsun!”

“If only they knew what you were really like,” Takahiro drawls, smirking when Oikawa turns his glare towards him. “They would go running.”

Oikawa makes an offended noise and starts going off into a melodramatic fucking sonnet about how he should be treated better, that he’s a good person who doesn’t deserve this, that as captain they should pay him more respect – the usual crap, really. Takahiro is about to give him a biting retort when he notices Iwaizumi looking at the letter in Oikawa’s hands.

There’s something… strange that rests in Iwaizumi’s eyes. This is usually the part where Iwaizumi joins Takahiro and Matsukawa in goading Oikawa, but he’s being awfully quiet, almost suspiciously so. Takahiro narrows his eyes at him.

He almost doesn’t get it, but then Oikawa says something like the word _girlfriend_ and Iwaizumi’s expression shifts, so fleeting Takahiro barely catches it – but he knows it was there. Iwaizumi keeps his mouth in a neutral line, seemingly occupying himself with the food in his bento. But Takahiro knows what he saw. He snickers. Oh, he’s gonna have fun with this.

“Jealousy is a disease,” Oikawa says indignantly, nose high in the air. “I hope you three recover soon.”

Iwaizumi keeps picking at his food quietly.

 

 

**IV.**

The sun shines low in the sky, casting orange light through the windows of the Iwaizumi household. Iwaizumi Aiko wipes her hands on her apron, having just finished making dinner for her family (and Tooru-kun, but he’s family too). Speaking of Tooru-kun, he’s probably with Hajime in her son’s bedroom, doing God knows what – Aiko has never been able to keep track of those two, running off wherever they pleased since the moment they could both walk. She smiles, fond, and makes her way down the hall and up the stairs to call her two sons down to eat.

When Aiko knocks on the door, there’s no response. She gently turns the knob and opens it, and is immediately greeted by the sight of Tooru-kun, long limbs splayed out on the bed, with his head resting on Hajime’s lap.

Hajime has always been a tough kid, running home muddy and bruised and often being the cause of their band-aid supply running low. He climbed trees like they were his home and caught bugs that made his mother’s heart feint. Tooru-kun always called him a monkey, and then a brute when he had a better vocabulary, and Hajime would hit him one way or another in retort, and Aiko would often laugh and wonder how her ruffian of an offspring came to be.

But the look in Hajime’s eyes is different in the light of the afternoon sun. His fingers card gently, gently through the locks of Tooru-kun’s hair, touch feather-light and cloud-soft as Tooru-kun lay beneath his fingertips. When Tooru-kun hums softly below his hands, there’s an intimacy in Hajime’s smile that’s so unalike the usual scowl he’d direct Tooru-kun’s way. It’s tender, almost, and Aiko giggles lightly at the thought.

It’s then when Hajime notices her, and he quickly presses an index finger to his lips, signaling to the sleeping Tooru-kun in his lap. Aiko smiles and nods, mouths that there’s food downstairs for them to eat, and Hajime replies with a quiet, “We’ll be down in a minute.” He doesn’t make a move, though. Aiko closes the door.

Her son may be a brute and a monkey on most days, but his hands have always been gentle, have always held the things he loves with a fierce and tender devotion. Tooru-kun is no exception. In fact, Aiko thinks as she returns to the kitchen, Tooru-kun is testament.

 

 

**V.**

It’s been a while since she’s visited home. Takeru bounds for the door the moment the car comes to a stop, no doubt on his way to tackle her little brother and bully him into buying toys for him (she really has raised her son well). Oikawa Emi steps into her childhood home, feeling reminiscent, and is immediately greeted by her little brother’s whining, much to her great, great annoyance.

“Emi,” Tooru complains, “your son is a tyrant.”

Emi high-fives Takeru.

It doesn’t take her long to settle in, and Takeru gets comfortable in half the time. They’re only visiting for the holidays, which means Takeru is milking Tooru’s time and money for all that he’s worth for as long as they’re here. Tooru whines and complains and acts like he hates it, but Emi knows her little brother loves Takeru more than anything. Well, almost anything.

It’s late afternoon when Emi and Tooru are sitting on a bench at the park, Takeru playing with some kids from the neighborhood. Neither of the two really need to be here, but over the past few days since their arrival Emi has noticed that there’s something on Tooru’s mind, and she figures there’s no better place or time to ask than here and now. But before she can say anything, Tooru beats her to it.

“Emi,” Tooru says, breaking the comfortable silence between them. His voice is strangely distant. She glances over at him, but his eyes are trained straight ahead, to somewhere far away. “What was it like when you went to university?”

Emi hums quietly in thought. She’d figured it would be about this. “It was hard at first,” she answers truthfully, thinking back to her early university days. She smiles fondly at the memories. “But things got better after a while.”

“What about your friends?” Tooru asks, dragging his eyes away from whatever he was staring at to finally look at her. His brows are pinched with worry. “Was it hard being so far apart?”

Emi purses her lips, a familiar face coming to mind. _Ah, so this is what he’s been worried about._ “We texted each other often,” she replies, careful, “and made sure to meet up whenever I came home. We were busy, and it was hard, but we made it through.”

And then, she adds softly, “You two will make it through.”

Tooru’s lips are pulled into a frown, and he tears his eyes away to look at the ground. Not many are able to read Tooru and the things he feels, but Emi has known him all his life, and though she may not know him the way that Hajime-kun does, she still catches the shaking of his hands, imperceptible as the motion may be.

“I’m going to Tokyo,” Tooru says quietly, and his voice sounds like the kind of tired that leaves you feeling heavy. “And Iwa-chan – he’s going to be a two-hour train ride away. What if–” Something catches in Tooru’s throat, and he has to stop for a second before he can begin again. “What if he gets tired after a while and doesn’t want to come and see me?”

“Then you go and see him.”

“What if he doesn’t want me to?”

“Tooru,” Emi says, her eyes both soft and resolute, “there isn’t a single day in all his lifetimes where Hajime-kun doesn’t want to see you.”

“You’re overestimating his feelings for me,” Tooru scoffs, though she can see the way red spreads across his cheeks. Then he goes quiet again. “I don’t want to lose him.”

Emi smiles, reaches for his hand and squeezes. “He loves you, Tooru,” Emi says quietly, and she remembers when Tooru was 7 years old and running home with snot running down his face because of some scrape or bruise that he’d gotten from playing whatever it was with Hajime-kun. Emi is terribly fond of the memory. Back then, through every cut and bump and tear, Hajime-kun would hold Tooru’s hand and refuse to let go until he was okay again. “And you love him. A little distance isn’t going to change any of that.”

There’s something in Tooru that seems to have shifted, and she notices the way his ears tint red when she says the word _love_ , but Emi doesn’t probe any further. She’s had her suspicions for a long, long time, and she’s not about to interfere now. All in good time.

Emi is sure, among many other things, that Hajime-kun still wouldn’t let go of Tooru’s hand, even now.

“I hope you’re right,” Tooru says, and Emi grins, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

“Lucky for you I always am.”

 

 

**VI.**

The sound of sneakers squeaking against floorboards fill the gym as members of the volleyball club begin to file in. Yuutarou begins his stretches on one side of the gymnasium, Kunimi doing the same next to him. He’s supposed to be practicing spikes today with Iwaizumi-san, and as his eyes scan the gymnasium he sees the vice captain standing in one corner with the other third-years, doing warm-ups.

Once he’s finished stretching, Yuutarou starts making his way to Iwaizumi-san, who, he sees, is joking around with Oikawa-san. The other third-years have already left to do their own training, leaving only the duo behind. Iwaizumi-san seems to be laughing at Oikawa-san’s expense, and Oikawa-san squawks indignantly, eyebrow twitching. Yuutarou is just about to call out to them when Iwaizumi-san’s hand reaches out and ruffles Oikawa-san’s hair, and Oikawa-san seems to stop altogether, the slightest hint of a blush dusting his cheeks. Oikawa-san glares, all bark and no bite at the vice captain, who laughs fondly at him and drops his hand, not before brushing his fingertips against Oikawa-san’s cheek.

For whatever reason, Yuutarou finds himself looking away, warmth spreading across his face.

 

 

**VII.**

Takahiro asks him, a little while later, what his look meant when Oikawa had received the love letter. Iwaizumi bristles, panics and denies in one fell swoop, and Takahiro must be an angel because he’s not making full use of this chance to make fun of Iwaizumi. But then again, he’s never quite seen his friend act this flustered, not even during a tough match, so maybe he’s a little bit concerned.

“If you like him,” Takahiro says, completely overriding Iwaizumi’s stuttering denials, “then just tell him.”

Iwaizumi stops at that. His mouth is pressed into a hard line and his eyebrows pinch together. He doesn’t say anything for a long, long while, and Takahiro thinks that maybe he should just change the subject, until Iwaizumi opens his mouth again and mumbles, quietly, “It’s not that easy.”

“Why not?”

His eyebrow twitches in annoyance. “For one thing,” he begins, and Takahiro can already see that he’s mulled over this before, “Oikawa’s going to a university in Tokyo. That’s already going to put a strain on us. If I tell him now…” Iwaizumi blushes and looks away, and says, in the least disgusting way he can muster, “I just don’t want to lose him.”

Iwaizumi has a hand rubbing absently at the back of his head. Takahiro is disgusted and maybe just the tiniest bit endeared, and he doesn’t know how to tell Iwaizumi that hell will freeze over before Oikawa’s clingy ass ever lets Iwaizumi go, even with a thousand miles and college thrown in between them. But Takahiro doesn’t say so, because he doesn’t think it’ll make a difference, anyway. Iwaizumi is many things, dense being at the very top of the list. So, Takahiro thinks it’s best not to meddle, and opts for letting the universe run its course instead.

“You’re an even bigger idiot than Oikawa,” he says, and Iwaizumi gets that murderous look in his eyes, and Takahiro smirks and lets it be.

 

 

**VIII.**

In the end, it’s the stars that see them the most.

Oikawa Tooru, with his affinity for the celestial (more specifically the extraterrestrial) spends most of his nights perched at his bedroom window looking up at the universe above, if he isn’t lying in the grass watching the stars. And more often than not, a boy sits beside him, looking up at the sky with disinterest but looking at Tooru with all the light in the world in his eyes.

Iwaizumi Hajime is probably the only existence ever to be able to one-up the universe in terms of captivating one Oikawa Tooru. Even now, as they lay in the grass, Tooru’s eyes are trained on the night sky, but his mind is on Hajime. Always, it is on Hajime. The stars should probably be offended by the absolute disrespect these two have towards them, but there are bigger things at hand. Like the way Hajime can hear his own heartbeat, and, in some cosmic way, know that Tooru’s is beating in the same rhythm. Or the way Tooru looks at Hajime like he’s the most beautiful thing in the world, and Hajime is looking at nothing but him.

If there’s anyone that knows the two better than themselves, it’s the stars.

“Hey, Iwa-chan,” Tooru begins to say, turning to lay on his side so he can face Hajime. Hajime is already turned towards him.

“Mm?”

“We’re going to college soon.”

“Mm.”

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Tooru asks, shy, the tips of his ears tinted pink. He’s fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves, a nervous habit he would indulge only around Hajime. Hajime picks up on Tooru’s nerves like it’s nothing, a side effect of being by his side all these years. He raises a brow.

“As if me saying no has ever stopped you,” Hajime says, gently, just to lighten up the mood, but also because it’s true. Ah, in the end, he never could say no to Tooru. “What is it?”

“Well…” Tooru begins, and then stops. His eyes dart down to their hands, which lay side-by-side in the grass, close but not touching. Tooru gets the urge to hold Hajime’s hand. “Will you come see me, in Tokyo?”

When Tooru looks up again, Hajime is watching him carefully, and Tooru immediately retracts. “N-Not that you have to! It’s a long train ride away, and two hours really is too much, and besides, I’ll be busy with training anyway!” He forces a laugh. “I probably won’t have time for Iwa-chan, anyway, with all the girls asking for my attention, and Iwa-chan will have just wasted a trip to Tokyo for nothing–”

“Oikawa,” Hajime interjects, his voice a low and steady weight that tampers down Tooru’s nerves. “What are you asking me?”

The stars watch, distant as they are, as Tooru lets out a slow, heavy breath. His fingers are trembling in tandem with his heart, ever so slight and nervous. He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to ask and be selfish even though Hajime has always let him, because this is too much and too hard even for Tooru, and he’s not sure he wants to put Hajime through all of that.

So he says, “I can always come to you,” instead of _I don’t want to be apart._ He says, “I can come home on weekends, when there’s no training, and we can go eat lunch at the café near school,” instead of _I’m scared I’m going to lose you._ He says, “Maybe we can even train together! At the court by the playground if… if you have time,” and leaves out the _if you’re not tired of me already._

“Tooru,” Hajime says, quieter this time. “What are you asking me?” He’s watching Tooru carefully, because he _knows_ this boy, knows his best friend like the back of his hand, and there’s something that Tooru’s not saying. He knows, but for the life of him Hajime can’t figure out what it is. He’s never been able to catch up to Tooru’s dreams, and Hajime never knows what Tooru wants from him. The boy already has the past 18 years of his life, and probably the next 80 if he just asks, and Hajime doesn’t know what else he has to offer. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Tooru asks him for something he can’t give.

Tooru swallows against the lump in his throat. “Will you…” He looks down at his hands again, pale and cold. “…Will you stay? With me? Will you…” Tooru lets out a shaky breath. “Will you stay with me?”

Hajime’s heart skips a beat, and he thinks, _dumbass._ Tooru can’t bear to look at Hajime, afraid of the rejection Tooru might see in his eyes. But then Hajime does something wonderful; he takes Tooru’s hand, gently, his touch softer than Tooru has ever felt, and Tooru watches as Hajime cradles their hands to his face, and brushes his lips lightly against Tooru’s pale knuckles.

“Dumbass,” Hajime murmurs against Tooru’s skin, blush evident on his cheeks. “As if I could ever leave you.”

And the stars, the stars lay witness as Tooru’s eyes shine with the light of a burning sun, as tears spill onto his cheeks and trickle down to the earth. They watch, as Hajime, flustered and shy, quickly moves to wipe Tooru’s tears away, and Tooru holds Hajime’s hands where they cup his face, the touch so warm it spreads across his skin.

The stars are all but forgotten in the sky, and Hajime and Tooru lay in each other’s hands, as they’ve always been.

**Author's Note:**

> idk how many times this type of story has been written, thus the title.
> 
> thanks for reading! this is my first time writing iwaoi and posting on ao3 (i really don't know how to tag), so forgive my mistakes, if any. this is a very self-indulgent fic, one i had fun making, so i hope you enjoyed the ride too!


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